


abundant spare

by pseudocitrus



Series: Intense & Undying [2]
Category: Hades (Video Game 2018)
Genre: Fluff, Game Spoilers, Hurt/Comfort, Light Gore/Blood/Wounds, M/M, Pre-Relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-30
Updated: 2020-09-30
Packaged: 2021-03-07 20:26:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,291
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26723620
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pseudocitrus/pseuds/pseudocitrus
Summary: For Thanatos, the physical affectations of life are wholly performative; butdeath incarnatehas picked up a couple things, from an innumerable millennia of held breaths, bodies stiffening with fear, hearts that speed with realization and then, slowly, stop. So it is that Thanatos's heart is tight in his chest as he comes upon the trail's conclusion, a figure nearly as pale as the snow onto which he collapsed.(Zagreus calls Thanatos to join him after he makes it to the surface.)
Relationships: Thanatos/Zagreus (Hades Video Game)
Series: Intense & Undying [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1969027
Comments: 40
Kudos: 766





	abundant spare

**Author's Note:**

> i haven't really even “finished” all the relationship routes yet, but. i am. absolutely obsessed. ///
> 
> (and to those who know me from TG........why are all reapers pale-haired nerds and most importantly WHYYY do i love all of them 😭😭)

_“Than.”_ A voice that reaches him, from a distance shorter than usual.

Much shorter.

He is busy — has been busy for days, too busy for even their competitive encounters. Even so, it takes him two moments to make it there, because he wasted the first one alighting in the fetid satyr tunnels, and glancing, and realizing there was nothing here but a sludge of fluorescent toxin and gore jagged with bone. He had made assumptions. Zagreus was here no longer.

But his blood is a bright trail. For Thanatos, the physical affectations of life are wholly performative; but _death incarnate_ has picked up a couple things, from an innumerable millennia of held breaths, bodies stiffening with fear, hearts that speed with realization and then, slowly, stop. So it is that Thanatos's heart is tight in his chest as he comes upon the trail's conclusion, a figure nearly as pale as the snow onto which he collapsed.

“ _Zagreus_ —”

Not dead, yet. But his body doesn't resist being pulled partially into Thanatos's lap. As his head droops, some of the laurels crowning it snap and scatter, brittle and gray.

“Almost,” Zagreus says. His voice is a croak. “So close. But I've never made it out the stone gate and stumbled here. That's a first.”

“Stumble” is an understatement for the events that led to Zagreus's present condition. Some of his wounds rupture in shapes that remind Thanatos of the gemstones on rings. This isn't the kind of death Thanatos normally presides over: the peaceful kind, a death as silent as the swing of his blade, a death worthy of being known as the twin of sleep. Zagreus is beaten, bruised and broken and smeared with warfare, his spring-colored eye turbid with crimson and his breath weaker than the wind rattling the bare boughs. A line of his vibrant blood is starting to seep from the corner of his mouth. Thanatos thumbs it away, gently. Another line follows.

Sometimes Thanatos finds himself too numb to feel the impact of his own realm, _death,_ the abruptness and perpetuality of lives unraveling without end. But…it feels unseemly to see the Prince of the Underworld in such a state, much less to see...Zagreus. Despite Zagreus’s relentless thrashing in the legions of the underworld, despite their brief little contests and respites, this is the first time that Thanatos has seen firsthand exactly how the majority of Zagreus's ventures end. Thanatos has a long acquaintance with suffering, but seeing Zagreus in this state pries his chest. He swallows, another affectation, which nevertheless steadies his voice.

“I'll bring you to her,” he says. “Your mother. Just tell me where to go.”

“No," Zagreus says. “No. She wouldn't...she's hiding. Supposed to be a secret.”

“Then, why did you call me?”

Zagreus's right hand tightens. Not on his weapon, long since stowed in the aether, but on Mort, who peers out from between his bloodied fingers.

“I just...didn't think it would be too far out of your way.”

“No,” Thanatos says, after a pause. “It isn't.”

He could dispatch of Zagreus in an instant. Thanatos never stays, like this — death doesn’t linger — death has no patience. But no distance would stop him from following Zagreus to whatever end of whatever earth he happened to be bashing his hard skull on. And somehow, though bringing death is the best thing he knows, Thanatos’s hand is still. If he were to kill him now, Zagreus would simply go and get himself hurt all over again.

And right now…despite everything. Zagreus is…at peace.

“The sun will rise soon,” Zagreus says. His mouth is turned at one side in a faint, faint smile, even as his voice grows quieter by the word. “Over that ridge...on the water. Do you ever...watch it?”

“Sometimes,” Thanatos says. “It's a little bright. You're not actually supposed to look directly at it. You're fading, Zagreus. Just save your strength.”

Thanatos adjusts him, propping him up a bit more, so that Zagreus can better observe the rose-colored lip of Apollo's chariot, and manages it without too much wincing on Zagreus's part. After that, Zagreus is silent, and Thanatos regrets it. It's been some time since Zagreus was quiet, since the sound of his voice checking in on and charming the various residents and passersby echoed through the House. From the first time Thanatos had heard it, it had had a strange effect on him, some tumultuous mixture that had both soothed and stressed him out immensely.

In any case, Zagreus is not one for obeying what he's told to do for long.

“It's nice not to be alone,” he murmurs. “Normally I'm dying in...in the bowels of who-knows-where. Surrounded by shades crowing over me. Or Father. All the snow and quiet here...peaceful in comparison...even if I didn't...make it.” His head tips back until it rests against Thanatos's chest. He is trembling. After a moment, Thanatos leans down, and speaks softly into his ear. So close as to be nearly a kiss.

“You've gone far, Zag,” he says. “It's enough. Rest. You deserve it. Even if just for a moment.”

The sunlight warms Zagreus's pain-furrowed brow. His next word is a mumble, something Thanatos can barely make out, something suspiciously like _thanks_.

Then Zagreus inhales, deeply, and exhales, even more deeply. It is his last noise, the last susurrus of this life's physical form; then he washes away, like a river, and slips beneath the earth.

:::

Thanatos can't help it; he descends, and finds his usual spot, overlooking the churning Styx that carries somewhere in it the essence that will once again coalesce and clot into a dark-haired prince growling and scattering ruby droplets on the shocked shades queueing by the Pool. Zagreus is not the type to take advantage of the House’s newly acquired lounge furniture, and so it is that even after a more traumatic death than usual, he approaches Thanatos with his footsteps still puddling. Thanatos understands with some abruptness that he is definitely spending more time than usual at work, because he finds his heart again speeding, somewhat, to see Zagreus hale and well. Standing. Saturated. There is no sign that only moments earlier they had laid together in the snow with the kind of agonizing intimacy one can have only with quiet death. Zagreus smiles and Thanatos is both soothed and stressed immensely.

“Look what made it down,” Zagreus says brightly, holding out a heavy bottle with a bow and silver seal. Thanatos's mouth thins. His hand remains at his side.

“Those aren't worth the cost,” he says flatly.

“What cost? You mean me getting stabbed a few times?” Zagreus frowns at him. “It's absolutely worth it. Especially since it meant I got to…” He pauses, just for a moment, and then just blusters on, as usual. “Since I got to meet you at the end of it.”

Thanatos sputters. “Come — come on. That's...a little much.”

Zagreus is laughing. But his face is also, very slightly, colored, in that way that only his red blood can make it. “If you think that's a little much, I hope you never meet Aphrodite. In any case, Than, let's go and crack this one open together.” He swishes the contents enticingly and Thanatos grimaces. He opens his mouth.

“You're always busy!” Zagreus says, before Thanatos can say anything. “It's enough, Than. Rest. You deserve it.”

There is something about him, maybe his streak of mortal blood, that warms Thanatos’s embarrassment-furrowed brow as surely as sunlight. Death has no patience, but maybe it does have vices. Thanatos's next word is a mumble, something he himself can barely make out, but which sounds suspiciously like _thanks_.

Just for a moment.

**Author's Note:**

> i read a little more about thanatos as he appears in old literature and i guess he presides over “peaceful death,” which may not be the game canon, but was kind of an interesting image i used here anyway just cuz.
> 
> thank you for reading! ♡


End file.
